


The Long Way Round

by Ladyfae (Ladysaille)



Series: Shadows Beckoning [8]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26521531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladysaille/pseuds/Ladyfae
Summary: Relationship broken, friendship in tatters, witch and vampire must grapple with the sword sworn truth, and the exact nature of Willow's restoration spell.
Relationships: Angel/Willow Rosenberg
Series: Shadows Beckoning [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1845043
Kudos: 6





	The Long Way Round

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters herein. They belong to BVTS and its creators Joss and WB. Don't hurt me for borrowing them. They needed to come out and play...  
> Those who may recall the original version of this story will know that it has gone off the rails. I hope you enjoy this new take.

The Long Way Round

 _Don’t think about it, vampire. Forget the warmth of her touch, the sweet taste of her kiss, you’ve no right to those things, not anymore._ Despite the ache that took up residence in my chest when I explained that it wouldn’t be right to continue a romantic relationship with her, I forced the words out. I blamed my actions on loneliness and blood. Careful not to mention Buffy or place blame on Willow. It wasn’t her fault. I knew better, understood almost from the beginning how dangerous letting myself care for her was.

The look on her face, so hurt and then resigned, as if she expected it. She nodded, stood from the couch, and holding herself, moved toward the front door. It was still light outside, but I wanted to detain her, stop her from leaving me. Though I was the one to push her away, to send her back into the light where she belonged. I still wanted her with me. Even if I couldn’t have the lover I craved beyond all reason, I wanted the friend she had been almost as bad.

For the three weeks since that afternoon, she avoided me, carefully timing things. She didn’t patrol. She didn’t speak to me should our paths accidentally cross, and she told no one else what happened. Giles knew. The Watcher was the reason I stopped it before it began. I still wanted her, still adored her, still needed her in the worst way. But she buried herself beneath piles of research and homework, even refusing me her friendship. That hurt worse than the loss of her as a potential lover. 

Today, for the first time, our paths brought us to the library. She sat with books piled high in front of her, laptop open. Once in awhile, I’d find her eyes on me, as if she were contemplating something. Her lips would part, and I would think my penance was over, at last, only the words never came. I knew that whatever my reasons had been, I’d lost her. I glanced at Giles out of the corner of my eye. He watched us as if he were checking to ensure that I’d broken her trust in me enough. Broken beyond all hope of repair, I feared. I couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t be near them, near her, and not be able to even speak with her.

I stood.

“Angel,” Giles said. His tone held a warning as if he knew the decision I came to.

I turned to look at him, my expression cold. I wondered on some level if his insistence that I couldn’t possibly have a relationship of any kind with Willow, that it wouldn’t be fair to her, was his way of making me pay for losing his own would-be lover.

“Rupert,” I said, “there is nothing here. There are a couple volumes in my collection that may shed some light on exactly what is happening.” I moved toward the stacks, intent on taking the sewers back home. _Make her talk to us, she’s ours._ I knew if I remained in the library, I’d do something I couldn’t take back. Worse than what I’d already done. The demon rattled against his cage, tightening his hungry grip on my soul.

“Angel,” Giles said again, tone stern.

I whirled to face the Watcher, the anger that curled in my gut, and the need being near her incited combined to create a dangerous simmering mess of emotion.

“No, you got what you wanted. I did as you asked. I’m done.” I glanced fleetingly at Willow, her shocked gaze shifted between Giles and me.

“You did the right thing,” the Watcher said.

I chuckled a low rough sound that drew Willow’s gaze to my face and made her pause. “Did I?” I wasn’t so sure, his logic was sound, I couldn’t ever hope to give Willow the things that another human man could, but neither Giles nor myself had bothered to ask Willow what she wanted. Her expression turned stricken, and before I could stop myself, I was at her side. She stared up at me, her lips trembled, and I recalled with perfect clarity the way they tasted, felt beneath my own.

I reached forward, tucking a wayward strand of her cinnamon locks behind her ear. She shuddered against my touch, and her gaze locked with mine. I couldn’t find words to speak. It was ludicrous that this little slip of a girl could reduce a master vampire to this state. Her eyes closed, and her head canted away from me. She broke the strange spell, glancing at Giles.

“I think,” she said, addressing Giles, “that maybe you’ve interfered enough.” She glanced at me. Her expression opened for a moment, reminding me again of what I’d lost. She smiled, that soft little lopsided smile that made my heart tremble.

She pushed herself up onto her toes and pressed a tender kiss to my cheek, and instead of absolution, I felt only desperate pain. The first touch in weeks, and it burned.

“I forgive you,” she said. “I have to go.”

She drew back and then stepped around me. I reached out, unable to stop myself, catching her upper arm in a gentle hold. She turned back to me, expression sad. With gentle fingers, she covered mine on her arm. “I’ll see you around.”

I let my hand fall away, even as the desire to drag her back to me ate at my tremulous control. It was perhaps the best I could hope for, allowance back in, given a place back in the circle of her friendship. I’d ruined any chance of more with the lie I’d told to push her away. If I were lucky, I’d be gifted with her touch once more, though I knew I’d never again taste the sweetness of her lips.

*

My walk home was quiet. The realization that Giles perhaps had influenced Angel hurt. I wondered how much of what he told me was true. Was any of it? I knew Giles hadn’t approved of my relationship with Angel, even before it had turned into something more romantic, but that he’d have used his considerable powers of persuasion and Angel’s own guilt to put an end to it was painful.

There was a letter sitting on the table at my house. I needed to give it to Angel. Its contents concerned him more than they affected me. I’d received it a few days ago and only read it yesterday. If I hurried once I got home, I could grab the letter and drop it off at Angel’s before he’d made it home from the library. The tunnels were vampire safe, but they were not as quick a jaunt as the sidewalk.

I was supposed to meet Aria this afternoon, so much had changed in the weeks since Angel and I stopped talking. So much that I wished I could have spoken with him about. I missed him, missed my friend, I just wasn’t sure if I was ready or able to maintain the distance I would need on an emotional level to be friends with him again.

I unlocked my front door, quickly grabbed the letter from the table, and headed back out. The entire way to Angel’s house, I tried to convince myself that I’d do what I needed to. I could be his friend and nothing more.

I made it to the house in record time. I was sure I’d be able to get in and get out before Angel arrived home. I couldn’t face him again today. In his eyes, I’d seen the hurt, the desperate need he had for me. The bond between us lay dormant, made latent by magic, cast as soon as I located the spell. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away if it was continually crying out for me.

I stood in the living room, unable to move. The room was a mess; it looked as if a bomb had gone off inside it. The clear image of Angel destroying the room filled my head, but I couldn’t fathom why. Why he wrecked it. The only things that escaped his rage were mine or given to him by me. Their safety spoke volumes.

I set the letter down on the coffee table where Angel was sure to see it. I needed to go. I shouldn’t have come here. Just standing in this room reminded me of everything I’d shared with him, and how he’d thrown it back in my face. I turned to leave and froze. Angel stood a few feet away from me, his expression unreadable.

I glanced away from him. Gods, why hadn’t I left sooner? I managed in the last three weeks to avoid being alone with him. To prevent any attempt, he might make at soothing the tattered remnants of our friendship.

“Willow?” His voice broke, but I refused to look at him. He took two steps closer to me, reaching out. “I thought you forgave me,” he whispered.

I drew in a steadying breath. As much as his words and actions had hurt me, the letter was something I couldn’t withhold; he had every right to the knowledge within it. I grabbed the letter and closed the distance between us.

“I do, I just wanted to make sure you got this.” Just being close to him hurt. I ached with the need to be curled in his arms. Safe, protected, I missed that. Missed the comfort I always found with him. I pushed the letter into his hands. His fingers closed automatically over it, crumpling the edges. It looked how I felt, slightly rumpled.

“Willow,” he said again. “Please,” he whispered.

Tears burned behind my eyes. I wouldn’t cry, I’d bit back more tears over the last three weeks than ever before, but I held it together. Forced myself to move forward. “What do you want from me?” I forced out past the lump in my throat.

His eyes widened, and his gaze swept over me. “I want my friend back.”

The words came so easily for him. I imagined it was true, but they stung. He’d had me all to himself for months, and then I was gone. It was his own doing, but still, it had to have hurt. I wanted to be what he needed me to be, but I wasn’t sure I could. I trusted Angel with my life, and I had trusted him with my heart, but that wasn’t a mistake I was willing to make again.

“I’m sorry.” I drew in a calming breath. “I have to go to meet Aria.” Which was true, and I saw the curiosity mix with pain. He missed so much, and on some level, he appeared aware of it. I turned from him, intending to head out. I had to meet Aria, but it wasn’t for a few hours yet. He dropped the letter onto the coffee table and grabbed me. I gasped, fire racing up my arm. Damn it!

His dark eyes were wide, his unneeded breath frozen in his chest. Before I could find my voice, his mouth was on mine, lips demanding a response—hands frantic on my body. I gasped, opening to him. He groaned, pulling closer, crushing me against him. He tasted of desperation and regret. The connection between us slammed open, the contact between our bodies obliterating the magic I used to lock it down. I jerked away from him. Holding out my hands in a staying gesture when he would have followed.

“No,” I ground out, “read the letter, read all of it.” I drew in a deep breath. God, I could taste him still, feel the imprint of his touch on my body. “You didn’t want me, remember.” I turned and walked toward the front door. He grabbed me from behind and draped me over his shoulder with sickening ease. I let out an angry shriek and flailed, trying to escape.

“Put me down!”

The bastard chuckled, and it slid low and velvety across my senses. His hand slid up the back of my thigh, and a warm tingling broke out beneath his touch.

“Nope, I’ll read your letter, but then we’re talking,” Angel said, his voice steely with just a touch of a growl that alluded to his demonic nature should I forget.

“You don’t want me.” I reminded him, trying to be reasonable as he slid his touch higher, getting friendly with my bottom, just like a vampire to take without asking. His hand patted against the curve of my behind, reminding me I was still at his mercy. He walked upstairs and down the hallway until he opened his bedroom door. He dropped me onto the middle of his too large bed, and I wanted to curl in on myself and scramble away at the same time.

“Keep your ass right there.” That rough tone descended deeper into the realm of his demon. I shivered, forcing myself to remain still. His gaze held on me, predatory and hungry in a way that both intrigued and terrified me.

“What gives you the right?” I demanded.

His expression turned feral in response to my words. I tried to calm the rapid beat of my heart, desperate to hold on to something other than my insane reaction to him.

“You love me,” he said.

“But you don’t love me,” I shot back, feeling almost guilty as he grimaced in response.

“You know that’s not true.”

Such a soft, whispered confession. I wanted to rage at him, to scream and yell, and demand to know why he could just take it all back and pretend he hadn’t broken my heart and my trust.

“All you have to do is touch the link to know how I feel about you. It can’t lie.”

No, it couldn’t, not like he could. He’d spent a miserable three weeks trying to convince himself that breaking my heart was better than taking the best years of my life from me. Only to have me hate him as I aged, and he didn’t. His reason was solid, even if his delivery left something to be desired. His love for me was strong enough for him to hurt me now, to protect me. I could accept that. He was wavering, and while a part of me wanted to latch desperately onto his uncertainty, I knew it would lead nowhere good.

“I know,” I said finally because I knew he loved me. “It changes nothing. We’re friends, Angel, good friends, but only that.”

He gasped; I knew the truth of my words hurt as they moved through the now trembling bond between us. I took a deep breath. “You need to read the letter, and then we won’t talk about this again.” It was the only way to move forward. To pretend that nothing had happened between us. It somehow hurt worse when I said the words than when he’d told me the same thing those weeks ago.

He hauled me across the bed and into his arms. His breathing stuttered. “I love you,” he gasped raggedly against my throat. He held me as if I might try to escape his touch.

“I love you too,” I whispered, kissing the top of his head. Tears came then, mine, his, ours. A torrent of what might have been were things different. We clung to each other, the bond wavering. Angel’s exhaustion and hunger were apparent to me. I urged his face away from my neck and studied him. He looked like hell, worse than I’d realized. He wasn’t taking care of himself.

“When was the last time you slept through the day,” I asked. Worry clouding my mind. “You’re not eating, either, are you?” The dull ache of his hunger swam beneath his need for me. He glanced guiltily away. “Is there at least blood in the kitchen?”

He nodded. His arms tightened around me, and he nuzzled my throat, seeking comfort from the familiar embrace. I swallowed back pain as he settled against me, sleep overtaking him. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. I had 3 hours before I had to meet Aria, I could stay cuddled with my vampire for at least 2.5 of them. I set the alarm on my watch and allowed sleep to claim me.

*

It was late afternoon when I headed toward the high school. I hoped Angel would read the letter and eat, the fool vampire. Aria stood just inside the double doors. The ready smile on her lips dimmed as I got closer to her. Perhaps she could see the barely calmed turmoil. I kept Angel in my life but condemned us to less than we wanted, and it made me ache.

“What is it?” Aria asked.

I smiled sadly. “Just growing pains.”

“Guy trouble?”

I laughed. “That obvious?”

“Only one thing causes that kind of heartache,” Aria said with a wistful smile of her own. “If you’ll forgive me, it might be for the best.”

I grimaced; it was, but it hurt like cleaving a body part.

“You said there were things I needed to understand about what it means to be a seeker,” I said, my voice shaking.

She looked mildly disturbed. As if she didn’t want to share the information and again, the intense fear that I would become some kind of sword-wielding killing machine.

“I still don’t know an easy way to explain this. You’d think after a hundred years I’d know-how.”

Her words made no sense until they did. “Wait-What?”

Aria smiled tremulously. “Once bound to their blade, a seeker stops aging.”

“Why,” I asked in confusion. What did that mean?

Aria chuckled as if she found my question funny. It stung until I realized most people likely didn’t ask why.

“To be honest, I’m not sure why bonding to the blade triggers a stop in our aging. It appears related to the fact that the blade contains a magical signature that aligns with the seeker. The antiaging seems to be a side effect of its need to protect the bearer.”

“So, it only happens if I bond with the blade? Do I have to bond with the blade? Does it have to happen now? Can I do it later? How else does it change you?”

Aria chuckled. “You give new meaning to the words rapid-fire.”

I giggled. “I do that.”

“It’s okay, let me see if I can give you the answers in something like order,” Aria said. “The antiaging part only happens when you bond with the blade. That being said, you would notice minor changes. It doesn’t have to happen now, but you will eventually have to bond with it.”

“How long can it be put off for?”

Aria sighed. “There doesn’t seem to be a constant there. I know of one person who put it off for 10 years.”

“What happened?”

“She nearly died, and bonding was the only way to save her,” she said, “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

I nodded because it was everything, and I had no idea what other questions to ask. Was there a handbook? Angel would know what to ask.

“So, I’ll become immortal when I bond with my blade.” I glanced away from Aria, embarrassed to ask what was on my mind.

“What, Willow, you can ask me anything.” There was an earnestness in the other woman that made me want to hug her. Tell her that as far as life-changing, earth-shattering revelations went, this was much better than most.

“It won’t change me right, I mean…” I paused. “Will I be like you?” That sounded unkind, but from what I could tell, Aria had no home, no anchor.

She stared at me for a long moment, and I worried I’d offended her into silence.

“Not unless you misplace your blade after you bond to it,” Aria said, a small smile on her lips. “You are you. Healer more than warrior. Mind over brawn, it won’t change that, but it will give you what you need to protect yourself and those you love, should the need arise. You are who you are. The sword doesn’t change that.”

I breathed a little easier. “It strengthens everything, doesn’t it?” I asked. I’d noticed since I first encountered it, that my magic seemed more intense, or perhaps it gave me the boost in confidence I needed.

“It’s a powerful gift, it gives you skill with the blade, it strengthens your magic, and it gives you the gift of time, but at a cost,” Aria said. “You’ll find that there will be hard choices, everyone you know will die before you. Your guy, he will grow older until people think he’s your father.”

Aria sighed. I crossed the distance between us and hugged the startled woman. “You may have just mended two broken hearts. Wonder what kind of karma points that gets you?” She looked at me in surprise but hugged me back. Her expression bemused. She chuckled. “Your guy already has an aging problem, doesn’t he?” Aria asked.

I grinned my cheeks heating.

“Just a bit.”

“You have homework, but you can go celebrate mended hearts first.” She held a small leather-bound book out to me. I took it, wondering not for the first time if Angel would like her. The two had not crossed paths yet.

“No sword work?” I asked.

“Not here.” She walked over to the table and grabbed my blade. My blade? Yes, I guess it was at that. She made a soft sound in the back of her throat as if touching the blade was uncomfortable for her. I followed and held out my hand for the sword.

“You’ll find a ritual of naming in that book. I want you to perform it in your own magical space,” Aria said.

I nodded.

She turned back to the table and reached into a bag which sat on the chair. From inside, she pulled a lovely leather sword belt and scabbard. The leatherwork was beautiful, the craftmanship elegant. Not to mention a decidedly feminine tilt to the belt and sheath. Neat even stitches held it together, and small flowers tooled into the leather lead to a rather lovely weeping willow tree.

I took it from her in surprise. “It’s beautiful,” I said.

“I picked up a few skills over the years,” she said with a smile.

“You made this?”

She nodded, and I felt oddly touched that she had created something so beautiful for my blade.

She had seen history that I had only read about in books. Like Angel, a little twist of pleasure tightened my gut. Angel—that life Giles was so confident Angel couldn’t offer me seemed far less out of reach. That assumed Angel’s feelings for me had truly survived the three weeks we’d been apart. He needed me, that was true, but that didn’t mean he still loved me if he ever had.

“Go on,” Aria said, a smile almost wistful curling her lips. I was still light enough to walk to Angel’s without worry. I could only hope he’d read the letter. That he wasn’t resentful of me giving him one thing he wanted above all others and denying him another.

The walk was uneventful, but my mind had been a whirlwind of thoughts, so a dancing demon could have arrived complete with back up dancers that spontaneously combusted, and I doubt I would have noticed.

I stood in front of the door for a long time. Uncertain of what I would find inside. I knocked because despite his instance, otherwise, this wasn’t my home. The porch would protect Angel from the lingering sunlight. The door opened, and Angel blinked down at me. Confusion splashed down the bond between us. He didn’t speak or move, just stared at me. Maybe earlier had been a strange moment of weakness on his part. I caught sight of who was in the living room.

“I’m sorry. I’ll go.” I whispered. It was apparent that the differences in our mortality were a convenient excuse, and he was perhaps not so in need of me any longer. He’d read the letter. I smiled weakly. So much for curing broken hearts. 

“Wait,” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward him. “We need to talk. Go upstairs,” He said, his fingers closed tight on my wrist.

“No, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

He growled. “No, and you are. About too many damn things.” He leaned into me. “Willow, get your ass upstairs, or you won’t like what happens if I have to come and find you later.” His eyes flash golden as he spoke. His hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushed tenderly over my bottom lip.

He tugged me into his arms and twisted. When he released me, I was facing the stairs, Angel’s hulking form between me and the door.

He held my gaze, his dark eyes flashing in warning as I balked at the base of the stairs. I jumped when he took a step toward me. I darted up the stairs. He hadn’t gotten enough sleep yet. He still teetered on edge. Human’s with sleep deprivation could be dangerous, vampires could be as well. I thought Angel’s soul was suffering from a lack of sleep, and it left his demon in full force. The thought kept my mind going over worse case scenarios as they talked downstairs. I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to know.

The sound of the front door slamming revealed when she left, and I didn’t have to wait long for him to appear in the bedroom’s doorway.

I didn’t move. Why had I come here again?

“Did you read the letter?” I asked. It seemed like a safe enough topic. He sighed, his dark eyes unreadable.

“I started to; Buffy interrupted before I finished it.”

It wasn’t a long letter, but it contained things he needed to know. Was he stalling?

“It’s from the coven in Minnesota.”

“I noticed. You left,” Angel said.

“I had to meet Aria,” I said. There was something off, odd about the way his gaze moved over me.

He nodded and crossed into the room, closing the door behind him. He knelt before me. “Do you have any idea how you tempt me?” His voice was low, gravelly, and his eyes demon gold. I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, fighting the desire to scramble away from him. A rumbling growl escaped his chest. The sound washed over me catching me between desire and fear. Angelus, I realized that sleep-deprived and still hungry, my Angel was not in evidence. He slithered closer, the movements smooth and strangely enthralling. His hands slid against the outside of my skirt covered thighs. My breath caught, and skin rioted in response to the teasing glide of his fingers.

He tightened his hold on my hips, his fingers biting into my skin. He was close, too close, and his scent filled my head, scattering my thoughts.

He forced my knees apart, his hands pulling me against him. A whimper slipped from my throat as he leaned in to nuzzle against me. Every inch of my body rose to his touch. Get _hold of yourself, Willow._ Heat radiated through me, made even more intense by the brush of his lips. Fangs followed, teasing my pounding pulse.

“Angel, no!” I pushed him away.

He growled at me, flashing his fangs, but settled back on his haunches. As if I needed a reminder of his predatory nature and immense strength. His breathing was uneven as he fought for control. His gaze kept to the floor.

“Maybe I should go.” I wasn’t frightened precisely, but I wasn’t sure about sharing what Aria had told me with him.

“No.” He lifted his head to gaze at me. His eyes were a mix of gold and brown.

It shouldn’t have been arousing or added to the liquid warmth in my middle, but it did. He drew in an audible breath and released it on a low moaning growl.

“Angel,” I cried out when he pinned me to the bed. His weight drove the air from my lungs. I pushed against his shoulders, trying to dislodge him. His touch was forceful, demanding, hands beneath my clothing, one cupping my breast, and the other slipping beneath my skirt. “Stop,” I pushed frantically against him. Twisting beneath him, I jerked my leg upward, attempting to inflict some kind of pain, to draw him back to his senses.

Demon gold eyes studied me, his expression was unreadable, cold, Angelus. I wrapped my fingers into his hair, pulling hard. A low rumbling growl was my only response. The hand on my breast tightened, I jerked away, trying to wiggle free of his disturbing touch. He forced his mouth against my throat and nipped hard. He suckled, his tongue slipping out to lap at my skin.

“Angelus,” I gasped. He froze, his entire body stilled. He lifted his head from my throat. The hand beneath my skirt slid away. I stared at him. My blood marred his lips. The hand on my breast squeezed gently, his thumb brushing over my nipple. I swallowed back a whimper.

He shifted, rubbing against me, his arousal, hard and heavy against my thigh. His lips brushed against mine, teasing, entrancing.

“Stop!” I forced my voice to sound as sure as I could.

He stared down at me, his mouth working, his expression confused, uncertain. He jerked away from me. Taking a stumbling step back. I sniffed, realizing that the shock on his face was all Angel. I set up and scrambled back from the edge of the bed. His expression shattered as if he just realized what he’d done. I wrapped my arms around myself, and Angel opened his mouth as if he wished to speak. He shook himself without saying a word and headed for the door.

“Angel?” I whispered.

He turned back to me, regret and concern clear on his face. He pulled open the door and slipped out into the quiet of the house.

*

I leaned heavily against the wall outside my bedroom. Willow, the sweet scent of her filled me up. I tightened my hands into a fist, fighting the desire to return to her side. The trembling began in my legs, the knowledge of what I wanted, making me physically ill. Only the shock of my demon’s name on Willow’s lips allowed me to wrest control from him.

Concentrate on something else. The letter was still downstairs. What was so crucial in its pages? It would concern my soul, but I already knew it was mine. For Willow, its permanence was only a theory, but I felt the glow of true peace in her arms. Contentment like that should terrify me. I made my way downstairs. Grabbed the letter and read. The words made no sense, and then they did. Caster’s intent, anchor, demon bonding, demon, and soul must accept one another.

Accept one another. The idea was preposterous. My demon, my soul, couldn’t concur on the most basic of things. I glanced at the ceiling. The only thing in nearly a hundred years of having a soul we’d ever agreed on was that little slip of a girl upstairs.

I froze. Her footsteps were on the stairs. I glanced up as she came into view. For a moment, it was as if I saw her in double. Mine, Angel, the soul’s impression, all red hair, pale skin, gamine face, tenderness, warm protectiveness, and wanting all welling up inside me in a gentle wave. The demon’s impression was starker, bleaker, more possessive, blood, fear, passion. The blue of her blood moving beneath her skin, a map of the world. Hunger, need, possessiveness, angry that anyone might harm her. She was his. His to pleasure, to punish, just his.

She stood before me, head high, expression fierce. _Mine_ was the demon’s only thought as it used my eyes to drink its fill of Willow’s beautiful face and form.

“Angel?” Her voice turned my name into a question.

“Mostly,” I said, I was largely in control, at least for now.

“I didn’t know,” she said. The guilt in her voice saddened me. Her actions gave me a choice, a chance to be whole in a way that I never dreamed of.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

“But…”

“Willow, there was no way for you to have known.”

“It’s why Buffy could let go, my spell made you equally demon and soul, and now she can’t be with you.”

“Sweetheart,” I said, cupping her cheek, brushing my fingers gently over the glowing curve. “Your spell isn’t the problem. I’m a vampire, she’s the slayer, that’s the problem. Loving her was torture, to know that no matter what I did, a part of her wanted to destroy me.” I dropped my hand and took a step back. Her warmth seeping into my skin was addictive.

Her expression changed, shifted, confused, worried, and then she laughed. “You were into self-torture, weren’t you, Angel?”

I shrugged a bit sheepishly. “It pissed the demon off too, which was a bonus.”

Willow shook her head, then closed the distance between us. I wasn’t sure at all that I should touch her again, and yet, we both owed her an apology for what took place upstairs. She wrapped herself around me. Rested her head on my shoulder and just stood there.

A warmth that had nothing to do with lust enwrapped me. Everywhere she touched, calm comfort bloomed. Even my demon quieted.

“Willow, upstairs, hell all of today, this evening. I was out of line. I pushed you away, and when you stayed away, I didn’t know exactly how to deal with losing you.”

She nodded against my shoulder, tightening her arms around me for a moment. I wanted to ask for forgiveness to know that we would be alright, but I didn’t dare.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” The question was simple enough, but the answer might throw another wall up between us. One I didn’t relish.

I needed her, and without her, sleep became its own kind of torture.

“Dreams,” I said finally.

“Bad dreams?”

“Some, some not.” I sighed. “Demon dreams.”

She nodded.

Even pleasant dreams sometimes became nightmares. I knew I shouldn’t say it, but the words came anyway. “Mostly, I dream of loving you,” I whispered. I glanced away from her, feeling somehow guilty for the images, the plays my mind puts on when sleep takes me.

She draws back to look at me.

“My favorite dreams,” I said, unsure why I kept speaking, “are the ones where I’m inside you for ages, and your voice is hoarse from too much pleasure, and my back is bloody ribbons because your nails are angry, passionate things.”

Her mouth parted in surprise. Her gaze locked on mine. What was I doing? I couldn’t keep her, and yet, I couldn’t make myself let her go, not now, maybe never?

“The nightmares start the same,” I admitted, “but they end when I’ve taken more than you can spare.”

Her expression didn’t change, though I knew she understood what the words meant, what I didn’t say. I’d bitten her before amidst shared passion.

“You keep acting as if your nature as a vampire is something I will or want to forget. It’s not, I understand and accept what you are, can you?”

That was the crux of the matter. I was a vampire, a demon. I committed atrocities when newly made and for many years after. Now, I had a chance, because of this beautiful, loving young woman to be whole, complete.

“I have to,” I said because it was clear from the letter that if we didn’t accept each other, we were doomed to be unstable, dangerous.

She nodded. Pushed herself up onto her toes and kissed my cheek. I couldn’t ask her to be my anchor any longer. As much as I adored her, but between us, there could be no future. Her friendship was all I could hope for. I just had to convince my demon it was enough.

Even as the thought formed, the demon growled in response. It would not relinquish its hold on Willow. Its desperate desire to possess her in every sense.

“Angel… I…” she trailed off, “Come on,” she said, “You need sleep, and I’ve not been sleeping so well myself.” She tugged me toward the stairs again, and I hesitated. She glanced back at me over her shoulder. “It’ll be fine.”

 _Go with her, you fool. If you expect me to accept you, best keep our witch ours._ I glanced at Willow sharply, her gaze locked on me, her expression curious. _Could she hear him?_

“You both need sleep,” she said. She turned from me and took the stairs without looking back. She paused outside my bedroom door, before continuing down the hall to her room. I stopped at my door, accepting that I’d have to make do with the distance between us, though I craved her nearness with an intensity that left me reeling.

I opened my bedroom door and paused. The images of Willow in my arms, beneath me on that bed only a short time ago, filled me with longing. I stood there, unable to move. Her hand slid over my shoulder, and she pressed a kiss to my shoulder, wrapping an arm around my waist.

“You can’t sleep in this.” She tugged at my shirt, pulling it from my pants. Her hand skimmed over my chest as she pulled the shirt up and lifted on her toes, urging me to finish removing it. Her slender fingers brushed against my chest before dropping to my belt and tugging it open. My demon purred in response to her assertiveness, even as I floundered, trying to keep up with the little witch's baffling actions.

She pushed me toward the bed, and my knees gave out against the edge of the mattress. She pulled the slacks from my legs before she knelt before me, making quick work of my shoes, and dragging them along with my socks off my feet. I gasped when her fingers danced across my instep.

Willow stood, and her gaze perused my supine form. I studied her in return, she’d changed into pajamas, and a part of me found it humorous that she somehow made a flannel housecoat seem alluring. She shook her head and walked toward the other side of the bed. “Come on, Angel, we’re both tired,” Willow said, crawling onto the bed. She waited as I situated myself. I glanced at her, a little uncertain. I wanted to hold her but wasn’t at all sure if my touch would be welcome after my behavior earlier.

I lay down next to her, tense and waiting breathlessly. She sighed and curled against my side, resting her head on my shoulder. She ran her fingers over my arm and along my side. “Relax, Angel, how on earth are you going to sleep if you’re this tense?”

She lifted her head to look at me, a perplexed expression on her face. After a moment, she moved away, her face closing off. “Should I go, I can stay down the hall, I just thought…”

“No,” I gasped. I wrapped my arms around her, snuggling her as close as I could. She wiggled a bit before she got comfortable, and she sighed.

“Better,” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, brushing a fleeting kiss to her forehead and closing my eyes. Sleep came easily, and I prayed with the last bit of mental awareness that the dreams if they came, would be pleasant.


End file.
